


Oh what a fool.

by wovlesin



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Arthur Morgan is an artist, Drawing, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Gay Cowboys, How Do I Tag, John Marston loves Arthur, M/M, Short & Sweet, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wovlesin/pseuds/wovlesin
Summary: And for the first time in his life, John feels at home.—A short story about how Arthur’s become John’s definition of home.





	Oh what a fool.

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own; feel free to critique them!  
> —  
> Hello! This is just a little short & somewhat sweet fic.   
> I’m currently struggling with some personal issues so I apologize if this isn’t as great.   
> Hope y’all are having a great day!  
> —  
> All Kudos & Comments are deeply appreciated. <3

The fire in front them provided much needed heat on the cold spring night. 

Provided comfort as well, the crackles & pops causing a peaceful ambiance.

John has his head resting on Arthur’s shoulder, watching him draw the nature around them. 

His eyes track the movements of Arthur’s pencil, watching the piece come together with skilled strokes. 

“I usually draw trees with long branches, helps bring the whole picture together.” Arthur teaches, demonstrating his words. 

John nods lightly; he’ll never draw as breathtakingly as Arthur, but he’s thankful for the tips.

He liked hearing Arthur’s voice; enjoyed just listening to him speak about something that brought him happiness.  

Occasionally the two’s eyes would meet for a brief moment, icy blues staring into coffee browns. 

John wishes he could draw in those moments. 

“Grass is the hardest, so damn tiny.” Arthur continued, gesturing to the bottom of the page with his pencil. 

“Why’da draw it then?” John asks, curiosity behind his words. 

 Arthur shrugs. 

“Looks nice, I suppose.” 

John hums; he’s right. It does look nice. 

Arthur keeps drawing. 

John keeps watching, a lazy smile painting his face. 

Delicate fingers coat the page in the pencils lead, the scenery slowly coming together with each line. 

And for the first time in his life, John feels at _home_. 

The warmth circulating his body like the blood in his veins suddenly makes sense.

The continuous vulnerability. 

He feels safe, like laying in your bed after a long day. 

John trusts Arthur with his life.

Trusts him like nobody else, could never imagine anyone understanding him like Arthur does. 

They fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Like their hearts produced the same blood.

Swears they were put on the earth at the same time just to meet one another. 

It baffles him for a moment.

John never had a true home.

When he was young he didn’t have anyone to run to when he was scared. 

Nobody to hold him or reassure him of his safety when he was terrified of being killed in his sleep. 

Hell, he didn’t have anyone to even talk with. 

He barley had a roof over his head. 

Yet somehow Arthur has become his definition of home without even knowing it. 

He wonders if Arthur could describe John the same way.

John desperately hopes so.

He snaps out his thoughts when Arthur starts to speak up again. 

John just nods along to the words, 

Savors the way Arthur’s tone softens when he’s with John, no hostility or venom.

He laughs a small giggle. 

Lets himself just listen peacefully. 

Oh what a fool he is. 


End file.
